


my ghost, where'd you go?

by poseidon



Series: take me home [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7687141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poseidon/pseuds/poseidon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day the 00 program is reinstated, M goes down to Q Branch to see if they can find out wherever the hell Bond disappeared to. Bill doesn't think they can, but he goes anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my ghost, where'd you go?

The day the 00 program is reinstated, M goes down to Q Branch to see if they can find out wherever the hell Bond disappeared to. Bill doesn't think they can, but he goes anyway.

"I can't," Q says. He swivels in his chair away from the computer and faces them with a grim expression. "He's disabled the GPS on the car and he doesn't seem to be using any known alias."

M pinches the bridge of his nose. "What about Smart Blood? Is there anything left we can track him with?"

"The program is intact but Bond's information was removed after the, er, altercation with C. Restarting it might not work. Though I can try," he quickly adds, catching a brief glimpse of M's murderous glare before he contains himself. 

M lets out a heavy sigh. "Right. Okay. Try that. If it doesn't work, then, well..." he trails off and walks away, heading back to the lift. Bill shoots Q a sympathetic look before following.

"Q can get the job done," Bill says, sounding as sure as he can. "He's a smart kid. He'll find a way to make it work."

"You don't sound too sure," M says, staring straight ahead at the doors.

Bill can't think of a response, and the rest of the ride goes by in silence.

* * *

_[From: Q]  
Didn't work_

Bill forwards the message to M and leans back in his chair. He doesn't realize he's zoned out until his deputy walks in and drops a file on his desk, jerking him out of his reprieve.

"Oh, right, thanks," he says, grabbing over the first paper and skimming through it.

"No problem," she replies. "Is everything all right?"

"Yup." he looks up at her with his best attempt at a casual smile, changing tactics when her unconvinced look remains. "Actually, Henri, you don't happen to be a secret tech genius smarter than Q, are you?"

She scratches her chin, pretending to be in deep thought. "I think you would've noticed if I was."

"Thought I'd ask anyway."

She rolls her eyes, unable to resist a fond smile, and walks out. Bill leans back and sighs, deciding to take a few more moments to himself until work called his attention again.

* * *

"He's been gone only a few weeks, yeah?" Eve asks, leaning her arm against the bar.

"Yeah, just about. I'd say M is concerned, but he'd find out and that'd be the end of my vacation days," Bill says, mouth quirked.

Eve shakes her head with a quiet chuckle. "God forbid any of us reveal that M has a soft spot for his most incorrigible agent."

"I'll say." He raises his drink at her and drains the glass, setting it back down with a quiet thud.

She watches him with a quiet expression. "Does it ever feel like we don't have any other friends?"

Bill shrugs. "Well, we don't  _have_ any other friends, so..."

Eve punches his shoulder and orders another round.

* * *

Bill wakes up in the middle of the night, groaning and blindly groping for his buzzing phone on the nightstand. He rubbed his eyes and scrolled through the new messages.

 _[From: Q]_  
_I found him_  
_Well, not exactly 'found'_  
_But I have a good idea as to where he is_  
_I'm talking about Bond, if you couldn't tell_  
_He's in Bordeaux_

Bill considers throwing his phone out the window.

_[To: Q]  
why_

_[From: Q]_  
_I'm not sure_  
_The GPS was last active when he was in France, so I assumed he'd check out the wine country while he was there because he's James Bond and he loves to drink_  
_Apparently, some vigilante justice has been going around, brought on by a mysterious and British man_  
_Video surveillance proved that it was Bond_  
_I looked for more recent footage, but there wasn't any_  
_He must've left_

_[To: Q]  
great_

_[From: Q]  
What do we do now?_

_[To: Q]  
idk about you but im going back to sleep_

_[From: Q]_  
_What?_  
_But this is important!_  
_I found a lead on our missing agent_  
_We should tell M_

 _[To: Q]_  
_ill deal with that_  
_you get to sleep_  
_its the middle of the night_

Bill sighs quietly and drops his phone to the side, ignoring the buzzing when it lands on the floor.

He shouldn't tell M. No, scratch that, he _should_ tell M. He's just not going to. He knows that this is a huge mistake that'll come back and bite him in the arse when he isn't looking. But really, what good will it do - Bond not even in Bordeaux anymore, and they'll just waste time and effort trying to find him, only to have him slip way through their fingers once again.

Bond is excellent at not being found. After all, he is a spy.

Bill lies there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, before accepting the fact that sleep won't return and reluctantly slides out of bed.

* * *

He gets to work earlier than usual, tired and more than a little - okay, a _lot_ pissed off about how little sleep he'd gotten. He drops his briefcase on his desk and, after a halfhearted attempt at trying to get some work done, heads down to see if Q is still in his office.

"Tanner," R nods at him from above her mug (R1, to match Q's). "Should've known you'd be up at the crack of dawn, the workaholic you are."

Bill rolls his eyes. "I could say the same about you. What time did you get in?"

"About an hour ago," she says, plopping down into her chair and taking a chug out of her mug. "Q was just leaving when I came in. Seemed pretty upset about something. So, naturally, I went to his computer to see what he was working on."

"I don't think you're allowed to do that..."

She waves her hand dismissively. "He knows I do this. Plus, all his super-secret projects and his diary have layers and layers of encryption to keep me out."

Bill doesn't think that’s any better, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut on the matter and instead says, "We almost had a viable lead on Bond, but it turned out it was no good."

"That explains it," R says. "He's always had a huge crush on Bond."

"Everyone has a huge crush on Bond," Bill corrects.

"Even you?"

Bill shakes his head. "I've known him too long."

"Under all that bad boy mystique, he's secretly a compulsive knitter who watches rom-coms in his spare time?"

"I don't think 007 - or almost of the 00s, for that matter - would know a rom-com even if it bit them in the arse," Bill responds smoothly.

R lets out more of a cackle than a laugh and turns her seat around. Bill smiles on his way back to his office, nearly bumping into M.

"Morning, Tanner," he hums. "You look cheerful for someone awake this early in the morning. Something happen?"

"Just a funny joke with R," Bill replies, pausing a moment, "about 007."

M's cheerful demeanor faltered slightly. "Ah. Any new news on him?"

"No," Bill says.

M lets out a sigh and nods, and Bill, for a brief moment, considers telling him about what Q found.

But the moment passes and Bill watches M walk into his office, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Bill nearly drops his tea all over his front when Q suddenly pulls open the door into his office. "Postcard," he says.

Bill racks his brain for what the code word 'postcard' corresponds to and comes up with nothing. "I'm sorry?"

"He sent a postcard," Q drops it on his desk and stares at it.

 _If looks could burn_ , Bill thinks. "Bond sent this to you?" He picked it up and examined the picture - some seaside with a giant rock formation that seems familiar.

"I thought he was joking when he said he would but apparently he wasn't," Q says as Bill flips the card over. Bond's writing is careful and deliberate, each letter separate and distinct until the giant scratched-out mess. After that, it's a hurried goodbye and a sloppy signature.

Bill lingers at the first sentence a moment ( _Madeleine left._ ) and thinks of what R said. "Well. This is much more eloquent than his mission reports, I can tell you that."

Q rolls his eyes. "I could've told you that much." He snatches the card out of his hands and reads it again. "I can't find anything. No secret code, no hidden message. I can get people to figure out what's written under that giant scribble..." He licks his lips. "What are we going to do?"

What indeed.

"Don't worry about it," Bill says.

Q looks at him, the beginnings of a frown coming up on the edge of his lips. "Are you sure?"

Bill nods firmly. "I'm sure."

Q doesn't look convinced, but he nods anyway and knows not to argue. "Okay," he says, heading to the door. His hand pauses over the handle and he turns back. "Why do you suppose he sent it to me?"

"You're his right hand man," Bill says.

Q doesn’t respond, eyes back on the card as he leaves, quieter than when he came.

Bill scrolls through messages on his computer when R comes up a few moments later, bursting through without bothering to knock. "So I was down in my office just now..."

"Where you should be right now," Bill interjects, but she waves his words away.

"Q came in and was staring at something he brought from home. So when he went to the bathroom, I went to his desk and took a peek -”

"I'm pretty sure that's a violation of his privacy -”

R levels him with a look. "Tanner."

"R," Bill replies tiredly.

"You saw the card?"

"Yes, I saw the card," Bill admits. "Anything else?"

R frowns. "What do you mean, 'anything else'?"

"I mean, is there anything else you want to ask me or can we both get back to work?"

R gives him a look. “Have you actually _seen_ Q? He’s a mess!”

Bill shrugs. “It’s only been a day,” he says. “Give it time, he’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“Seriously, Tanner, did you already forget our conversation?” she crosses her arms and gives him a stern look, and Bill is reminded strongly of Moneypenny. _They must be hanging out more often,_ he muses, when she continues. “He hasn’t done anything all day, just sitting there and staring at that damn card – you got to do something!”

“Do what?” Bill asks. “He’s a grown man. He can handle this himself.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve already told him you two are going out to lunch, so you might as well help him sort out his emotions and whatnot.” She gives him a self-satisfied smirk and Bill wonders what he was drinking when he hired her and if he’s still got a bottle of it left.

“Fine,” he sighs, dejected. “Just – close the door on your way out.”

R slams the door shut and Henri pokes her head in. "Is everything all right?"

"No," Bill replies after a short while. “No, I don’t think so.”

* * *

Lunch with Q ends up happening closer to dinner, and the two wind up at a small cafe a short walk away from MI6.

"So," Bill says after a few moments of awkward silence. "Found a secret message?"

"Huh?" Q looks up from the postcard.

"You haven't stopped staring," Bill gestures to the card.

"What - no, I was just -” he pauses and shakes his head, leaning back into his seat.

"Tea's probably gone cold," Bill says. He grabs the card and reads it again, running his finger over the scratched out sentence. He wonders what Bond wanted to say.

“I just…” Q tries again but he trails off. He grabs his tea and takes a deep sip. “I just don’t understand what it could mean.”

“I don’t think it’s a code,” Bill says. “It looks as though Bond means what he says – he’s on a bloody road trip instead of helping us sort out this mess. Not the first time he’s left when he felt nature’s call or whatever.”

“He’d just come back, though,” Q says. He takes a sip of his tea and makes a face. “This is disgusting. God, who picked this out?”

“You did.” Bill hands the card back to Q before standing. “Come on, 009 is on a mission and he left a quiche in the fridge. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Q says. He carefully puts the card in his coat pocket and they walk back quietly.

Bill looks at Q and wonders what he’s thinking – about Bond and his mysterious vacation full of bullets, booze, and babes? Though, judging by the card, that doesn’t seem to be the case. The picture looks cool, relaxing, the kind of place people would go on a real vacation.

 _Maybe it’s actually a vacation_ , Bill muses. _Maybe he’s actually relaxing, taking in the sights and scenery, reflecting on what it is he wants to do._ The idea is laughable – James Bond, sitting on the beach and not in a fancy suit – and yet he can’t dismiss it completely.

“Bond was always a strange one,” he says aloud, when Q reaches into his pocket for the third time. “You can never tell what he’s going to do.”

“No, you can’t,” Q agrees.

* * *

Bill is just heading out of his office when he sees M returning. He stands a little straighter and smiles. “Sir, I didn’t think you’d be coming in today.”

“Left some files here in the morning,” he explains. “Only found time now to pick them up.” He sighs. “God, MI5 – they _say_ the meeting is only going to last a minute, half an hour, no more and then next thing you know, it’s almost six and you’ve been there all day.”

Bill shakes his head sympathetically. “Was it about a new agent?”

“Isn’t it always?” he chuckles. “And now, since 002 decided to retire permanently, I don’t even have a reason to tell them to piss off.”

“I’m sure we can find someone competent enough to outshine whoever they try giving us.”

M nods. “Moneypenny can certainly find someone competent,” he says. “By the way, she’s waiting for you downstairs. I thought your nights out were on Fridays.”

“They are.” Bill’s not surprised – R probably found her the moment she entered the building and told her the whole story – though he’d hoped she would wait until the next morning to get on his case. “I’m sure she just wants to vent after such a frustrating day.”

“Understandable.” M hesitates for just a moment before asking, “Are you two… together?”

Bill raises a brow when it clicks. “Oh, _god_ no. No, we’re just good friends – I can’t even imagine dating her.” He lets out an awkward laugh. “Besides, wouldn’t want the hassle of dealing with HR about our relationship.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” M says. “That was the worst part about dealing with Bond, you know? All of the complaints and the transfer requests.”

“At least we don’t have to deal with it for a while, right?”

“Indeed.” He gives him a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tanner.”

“You too, sir.”

Bill barely makes it out the front exit when Eve is standing before him, face fixed in a concerned frown. “Well?”

“You know, first of all, I don’t know why people expect _me_ to be the one to deal with all of this,” he says, stepping beside her as they walk along the sidewalk. “I mean, it’s not as though Bond and I were best of mates. Besides, he sent the card to Q.”

“You’ve known Bond the longest,” she points out. “Plus you’re the most mature out of all of us.”

“ _That_ goes without saying,” he mumbles and she gives him a halfhearted shove.

“So, _is_ there a grand plan to all of this?”

He sighs. “All we can do is wait, honestly. Bond won’t be found unless he wants to be found, and if he wants to go around traversing the French countryside, then so be it. Until he wants us to contact him, we can’t.”

“And we just hide all of this from M?” she asks. “I mean, you are his right hand man.”

“He’s got enough on his plate,” Bill says after a moment. “He doesn’t need this too.” He thinks about the conversation with him earlier and turns to Eve. “Did you know some people think we’re dating?”

Eve lets out a laugh. “Wow, that would be _disgusting_.”

Bill rolls his eyes. “Wow, thanks.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She pats his arm. “I guess this means I’ll have to introduce you lot to my new partners. One of them should be in the country in a few weeks or less.”

“ _One_ of them?” he raises a brow.

“Oh, come off it – they know about each other.”

“All right, all right,” he concedes with a smile.

Eve stares ahead for a little bit, at the cars and lights illuminating the streets. “You haven’t dated since your wife…”

“No, I haven’t.”

She nods. “Yeah, thought so. It’s next week, right? Give her my regards.”

He nods, and the ensuing awkwardness is too much for him to bear and he clears his throat. “So, how did the meeting go?”

Eve lets out an exaggerated groan and he listens to her complain as they walk into the pub.

* * *

He finally gets to meet one of Eve’s mysterious lovers at a lunch she decides to host on one of their few days off. Though Meg is out on a medical conference, Rashid is able to make it. He is tall, dark, has a deep voice, and reminds Bill of a rugby player he used to date in all the right ways.

“She’s certainly hit a jackpot,” he tells Q, as R and Rashid talk animatedly about something related to quantum physics.

Q nods. “"Can't believe someone with a body like that  _chose_ to be a scientist."

"I'll say."

It's just the five of them in Eve’s flat, sitting around her small dining table and sipping at their drinks like they’re all normal people and not accomplices in what could be considered state-sanctioned murders. It’s their way of coping, trying for a semblance of normal life, and without Bond there to remind them of their insane work life it should be easier to play into the act but instead it feels. Incomplete. Bill never really noticed how part of the group Bond was until he'd gone.

That was certainly in his style; make them miss you when you leave.

"You all seem like such a close group," Rashid says, smiling politely.

"It's easy to make friends with people you work with than going out and finding people," Bill says.

Rashid laughs. "You make an excellent point." 

"It's more fun when we're  _all_ together, though," R says. "One of us couldn't make it."

"James," Eve says. "James Bond. The one that's a piece of work."

"James," Rashid repeats. "Yes, you mentioned that." He swallows a bite of his salad. "What's he doing again?"

Eve opens her mouth to say something but Q beats her to the punch. "He's on what you'd call a journey of self-discovery."

"Journey?" Rashid raises a brow. "I thought they only did that in movies."

Q's lips quirk. "You'll find that Bond's life has a lot of moments that are usually only found in movies."

The conversation moves on to other things but Bill stays lost in his thoughts for a few moments, looking at Q quietly until R nudges his arm.

“Is there a way I can flirt with him without Eve noticing?” she whispers.

Bill shrugs. “If there is, let me know,” he replies and dives back into the conversation.

He catches Q outside before he’s able to hail a cab and walks up to him. “Why did you call it that?”

“Call it what?” Q asks.

“Bond’s vacation,” Bill says. “You said it was something about self-discovery. What did you mean?”

“I, well…” he shrugs, shuffling his feet slightly. “I don’t really know. But it seems like the kind of thing he’d do, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Bill nods. “Yeah it does.” He pats Q’s shoulder. “See you around.”

“You too,” he says, and turns back to face the streets as Bill makes his way home.

* * *

Q calls him at 8 am on a Saturday morning. If Bill weren’t such a professional, he would’ve smashed his phone with his alarm clock and went back to sleep. Instead he picks up with a tired grunt. “Q, what the hell?”

“You weren’t answering your texts,” he says sheepishly.

“It’s Saturday, Q,” Bill sighs. “Our day off. What’s this huge emergency that couldn’t wait until at least a reasonable time of day?”

“Bond sent me coordinates.”

Bill blinks. “He did what now?”

“Coordinates,” Q repeats. “I looked them up – it’s a parking garage near the Orly Airport. It leads to his car. You know, the one he took the day he left.”

“You mean the one you gave him,” Bill corrects.

“Yes, I mean the one I gave him.” There’s a brief pause. “What do you suppose this means?”

“I think it means he’s giving it back.” Bill lets out another sigh and leans back in bed. “I think you were right, Q. This might actually be a journey of self-discovery.” He sits up and rubs his face. “Right, I’ll deal with this. You go back to playing Dungeons and Dragons or whatever it is you do on your days off besides stalking our favorite agent. I’ll call later.”

He waits until he’s more awake before picking up the phone and calling 004.

“Morning, Tanner,” she hums, cheerful as ever, even this early in the morning.

“Glad you didn’t call it a good one,” he mumbles under his breath before clearing his throat. “Listen, Vasquez, I need a favor. A discreet favor.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “My flight isn’t for another half hour.”

“Don’t worry about that. You won’t be flying home,” he says. “I need you to go to the parking garage by Orly Airport and pick up Bond’s Aston Martin.”

“Bond’s Aston Martin?” she sounds excited for a second before her voice turns skeptical. “Wait a minute, you said discreet – do you expect me to _drive_ it back?”

“Yes, I do. And don’t say you won’t, because I helped you get together with Henri so you owe me.”

She lets out a grumble. “You win this round, Tanner. I’ll get your car.”

“Thanks.” Bill hangs up and stares at his phone, thinking about Bond. He started off by traversing around France, then left his car, got on a plane, and went – where? Obviously not back to London or he would’ve called, unless it’s a strange and elaborate surprise. But Bill doesn’t think so – Bond’s actions so far haven’t been following any discernable pattern. They’ve just been him travelling around aimlessly.

 _What are you doing?_   Bill wonders. _And why?_

* * *

He goes down to Q Branch to meet the final two recruits for 002’s position one morning, before their final interviews begin.

“Which one’s the one everyone’s talking about?” he asks. “I heard he’s something else, but not in a good way.”

“You’ll know him when you see him,” she replies.

They step out of the lift and she leads him to the recruits. “Tanner, this is Michael Richardson and Maria Bashir,” she gestures. “Richardson, Bashir, this is Bill Tanner, M’s chief of staff and the man you’ll most likely be meeting with to get your missions.”

Bashir adjusts her hijab and gives Bill a respectful nod. “Good to meet you, sir.”

Richardson leans back and crosses his arms. “You’re M’s second-in-command, right?” he asks. “Q’s second is called R, so why aren’t you called N?”

There’s a dead silence while Bill reflects on the multiple ways he could kill him without any weapons. Eve doubles over beside him in silent, vibrating laughter. He turns to the other recruit. “Bashir, right?” he asks. “When Miss Moneypenny has recovered, go with her to and she’ll help you with the final paperwork before you can begin working for us.”

Bashir swallows down her laughter and nods. “Thank you, sir.”

“As for you,” he fixes Richardson with a cold and expressionless glare. “Security can show you out.”

He goes back to the lift and checks his phone. Somehow, in the few minutes from the event to now, he’s gotten over twenty texts about his new nickname.

_[To: Henri]  
do i have any meetings?_

_[From: Henri]  
nope_

_[To: Henri]  
great lets keep it that way_

_[From: Henri]  
no problem, N_

_[To: Henri]  
seriously?_

_[From: Henri]  
does this make me O?_

_[To: Henri]  
remind me to fire you when I get up there_

_[From: Henri]  
;P_

“Fuck,” he mumbles, standing by Henri’s desk. He bites into his apple and leans over her shoulder, looking at her computer screen.

“Drop it in the swear jar, N,” she replies without looking up from her work.

He rolls his eyes and tosses the core away. “We don’t have a swear jar.”

“We should,” she says. “Q Branch alone would fund all of our vacation times.”

“She’s got a good point,” M says, coming over and handing her some files. “You could do with some vacation, couldn’t you, N?”

Bill lets out an exaggerated groan. “Not you too, sir.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, smiling playfully, “don’t you want a codename? We could call you T.”

“Sounds a little too A-Team for me, sir,” Bill says. “And, to be painfully honest, any codename is too cheesy for me.”

“Codenames are classic, Tanner,” M tells him. He takes some files back from Henri and heads back out and Bill watches him go, smiling a little.

* * *

Eve has a date with Meg so Bill goes to the pub alone, sitting at their usual spot and drinking his usual drink. He wonders whether or not it would be sanitary to rest his head on the counter when a woman slides into the seat beside him.

He looks up at her and instantly recognizes her - Madeleine Swann.

"Isn't this interesting," she hums. "My first time at this establishment and I run into an MI6 agent."

"Are you sure you haven't been stalking me?" Bill jokes and she lets out a small chuckle. His lips quirk and he orders another drink, thinking about Bond's first card. "What are you doing here?"

"I have some properties here," she says, fiddling absently with a toothpick. "James seemed to enjoy London while he was here, so I thought I'd do the same."

Bill wants to ask what happened between her and Bond, what's the real reason she's here in London, why she's here sitting next to him when she refused to be a part of the things people like him and Bond are part of.

He's only ever spoken to her once before, when he was helping her into a cab, right before the whole situation with C and the rest.

He wants to ask so many things, but instead he orders another drink and says, "You know I work for a man named M and with a man named Q, right?"

She raises a brow and nods. "Yes, I was introduced."

"Well, I was interviewing some candidates for a job like the one Bond has and he asks me, if Q's second-in-command is named R, why isn't my name N?" He takes a sip of his drink. "I don't think I've ever heard anything more stupid."

"I can do you one better," Madeleine says smoothly. "My deputy director's assistant used to call herself the deputy deputy director."

Bill nearly spits out his drink. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he concedes with a slight smile. "But I'm sure you don't have a story that can beat this."

He dives right into the story of when Q tried turning a suitcase into a miniature tank and she in turn tells him about Bond's adventure in her office and they keep going like that, back and forth, laughing about strange workplace anecdotes until she gets up to leave.

"This was fun," she says, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder. "We should do this again sometime."

"Same time next week?" Bill says and she smiles, scribbling down her number on a napkin.

"If you're up for it," she gives him a wink and he watches her go, paying his tab and leaving soon after.

He gets home and sits down at the table, staring down the card and considering his options.

In hindsight, he doesn't even know why he did what he did - going to the pub, drinking, telling stories to an attractive woman, exchanging numbers. Why did he even bother to go to the pub?

Well, he knows why: after dealing with such stupidity as a man who thinks "N" is a good code name, one would definitely need a drink. But the rest of the parts, like the flirting (was it flirting, if he hadn't done it in literal years) and the storytelling and whatever else they did – there’s no reason why.

At least he didn’t tell her anything confidential, he muses, but that didn’t seem to be what she was after. If she was after anything but a few drinks and a nice chat.

 _Maybe I’m just getting too paranoid_ , he thinks, and heads off to bed.

* * *

_[From: Madeleine]  
how’s the budget meeting going?_

_[To: Madeleine]_  
_as awful as I anticipated_  
_r &d’s presentation is up_

_[From: Madeleine]  
finally_

_[To: Madeleine]  
oh god_

_[From: Madeleine]  
what?_

_[To: Madeleine]  
[image attached]_

_[From: Madeleine]  
is that what I think it is?_

_[To: Madeleine]  
yup_

“Let me make sure I’m understanding this correctly,” M says, all but glaring at Q and R. “You want me to increase your budget by over five hundred percent so you can build a miniature robot _dragon_?”

“It’ll be able to destroy locks and act as a distraction and stuff,” R shrugs. “Honestly, it’s all 006’s fault because he bet us we wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“But the joke is on him because we’ll have the prototype ready for a demonstration soon enough,” Q adds.

“You mean it doesn’t even _work_?” M asks.

Q pauses a moment. “Define ‘work’.”

_[From: Madeleine]  
they should model the dragon faces after what M’s face will look like when they tell him what the bet really was about_

_[To: Madeleine]_  
_lol_  
_I think he might fire them if he finds out_

 _[From: Madeleine]_  
_bet they wish those dragons were real now_  
_the bet should’ve been if they could get M to have a heart attack with just this meeting_

Bill smiles at his phone and sets it aside, ignoring R’s inquisitive look as they continue trying to sell this completely fake project. Once the joke is revealed, the real presentation given, and the budget finalized, R and Q leave the room and M turns to him with a chuffed expression.

“I have half a mind to suspend all three of them,” he says with a slight chuckle. “And you too, for not warning me this would happen.”

“I was sworn to secrecy.”

“I’m sure you were.” He leans back and watches Bill check his phone for messages. “Were you texting Trevelyan about what was going on?”

“No, just a friend,” he replies. He pockets his phone and gathers up the files. “She wanted to know how the meeting went.”

“No one died, broke down into tears, or was sent out of the building so definitely an improvement from last quarter.”

Bill laughs, shaking his head with a smile. “Last quarter was a mess.”

“You can say that again,” he says. He picks up his mug and takes a sip, walking with Bill out of the conference room. “So, this friend – is she the one you’ve been having lunches with whenever I ask Henri if you’re in?”

“Lunch is the only time she’s free,” Bill says. “And it’s nice to have someone to complain about work to.”

“Very true,” M says. “All right, send me the files when you’re done reviewing them and I’ll sign them off by the end of the day.” He walks into his office and closes the door behind him.

Bill nods and turns around, nearly running into Eve. “God, how long were you standing there?”

“Long enough,” she says. “So, who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play stupid – the mystery friend you’re texting all the time.” She lets out a quiet huff. “I can’t believe it took _M_ calling you out on it for you to open up.”

“She’s just a friend, nothing more,” Bill insists. It had taken long hours of them talking about their day, exchanging jokes via text, and simply unwinding for him to even get _that_ far, let alone anything beyond that.

“When did this even happen?” she asks, trying to follow him. “How did you two even meet?”

“I won’t say anything, no matter how much you pester,” Bill says. He walks to Henri’s desk and leans over. “Can you stop Eve from bothering me about this?”

“I would, but I have actual work to do,” she hums, giving him a falsely sincere smile.

“Some assistant you are,” he says sarcastically and she laughs.

“Only if you tell _me_ something about your mystery girl,” she says.

“Not going to happen,” he replies. “You’ll only tell her and she’ll pester me more.”

She shrugs. “We just find it surprising you actually bonded with someone who doesn’t work here.”

“You’re hilarious,” Bill says, closing the door behind him. He sets the files on his table and pulls out his phone. Briefly, he considers texting Madeleine about the recent developments involving his coworkers’ sudden interest in his personal life, before simply telling her what happened in the end of the meeting and returning to his work.

* * *

It’s Sunday evening and Bill’s about to start the next episode of _The Clone Wars_ when he receives a text from Q.

_[From: Q]  
Are you busy?_

_[To: Q]  
does it matter if I say yes?_

_[From: Q]  
Well, I know you’re about to start watching Netflix so no, it doesn’t matter what you’re going to say_

He calls him a few seconds later and Bill picks up with a sigh. “What’s up, Q?”

“How long have you known Bond?”

“A couple of years or so. Why?”

“What do you know about his mental state?” he asks. “Not from his files or anything – from your own personal observations.”

Bill is silent for a few moments, carefully considering the question. He assumes this must mean Bond sent a new postcard or something, but it’s personal enough that Q doesn’t want to reveal its details. He takes a deep breath.

“Well, like all 00’s – and, for that matter, anyone who works with them – he isn’t exactly the poster child for an ideal mental state,” he says. “He’s changed a lot in the time I’ve known him. He’s reckless now, but he’s wiser, more knowledgeable, after losing so many people close to him. M’s death – Mansfield, I mean – really did a number on him. They were very close and losing her – well, it hurt us all but it hurt him the most. I think he thought he had to protect her, that she was his responsibility instead of the other way around.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with what he’s doing now?”

Bill shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe he doesn’t know what to do. His last mission was the last one she gave him and now she’s gone for real. I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

“I see,” Q says slowly. “Thank you.” He hangs up immediately and Bill is left with a strange feeling, staring at his phone until he starts up Netflix again and goes back to his normal routine.

* * *

“I think Q is in love with Bond,” Bill says, poking halfheartedly at his croissant. “Not in the sort of passing fancy way it usually is when people meet Bond, but in the actual romantic feelings way.”

Madeleine lifts a brow, lowering her coffee from her lips. “Well I could’ve told you that.”

Bill gives her a look. “You only saw them together for a few moments.”

“My degree in psychology isn’t for nothing,” she smirks and Bill can’t help but smile in return.

“Do you have any idea how Bond feels?” he asks.

“Bond is hard to read,” she admits, “but I have a feeling Q’s attraction isn’t one-sided.”

“That’s a relief,” Bill nods, leaning back in his seat. “Wouldn’t want to deal with unrequited love, now would we?”

“Not like _someone else_ you know, hm?” she smirks again.

“You’re just as bad as my work friends, you know?” Bill says. He takes a small bite of his croissant and she laughs, airy and light, and changes the topic to her ongoing job search.

* * *

It’s 11:40 pm and the holiday party is in full swing when Bill thinks it might be time to leave. He kisses Henri on the cheek under the mistletoe when he finds her and hands her a neatly wrapped box.

“Is it chocolate?” she asks.

“Yes, of course it is, for you and your girlfriend,” he says, and she kisses him back before going to join Vasquez on the dancefloor.

He finds Eve and R in an intense (and likely drunken) discussion on the proper way to make hot chocolate and he doesn’t think it would be wise to interrupt them, even if it is to give them presents.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get them,” Trevelyan says, grabbing the packages out of his hands. “Anything for me?”

“Pulling you out alive from Serbia wasn’t enough?” Bill replies and he laughs, clapping him on the back, as Bill hands him his present.

He spends a good ten minutes looking for Q when he finally decides to check down in Q Branch, coming out of the lift to find Q standing before his computer.

“Didn’t want to come up and enjoy the party?” Bill asks in good humor.

“My computer gave me an alert on Bond,” Q replies. He sends it up to the screen and Bill watches as a man hands a postcard to a post office attendant before turning around and staring straight up at the camera.

“That’s definitely him.”

“I know,” Q says. “The letter just says ‘Merry Christmas’ but he has a return address so…”

“So you think he wants to be found,” Bill finishes.

“Or at least talk,” Q adds. He lets out a heavy sigh and wipes his face. “What should I do, do you think?”

Before Bill can respond, he hears M’s voice from behind him. “Send him a phone.”

They both whip around to find M calmly drinking from the mug Q had gifted him (M3) and looking at them with an expression that isn’t furious.

“It’s the best choice,” he continues. “If he wanted to be found, then he would’ve just come back, so clearly he hasn’t gotten what he went for. But, clearly, since he’s reaching out, he does want to at least talk to someone from here – obviously you, Q, since you’ve been the recipient of his previous cards. He doesn’t have a mobile device since you haven’t been able to track him, hence the letters instead of texts, so your best bet is to send him a phone so he can communicate with you. Preferably with a text already waiting for him. Something about his car, I’d suggest.”

Q opens and closes his mouth twice before sound comes out. “Thank you, sir,” he manages to say.

M smiles. “Merry Christmas to you as well.” He starts to leave. “Oh, and tell him he better have a completed mission report on my desk the moment he returns, or else.”

Q turns back to Bill as he’s handed his present and sighs. “Well, I, uh – I’ll let you know what happens, if I get a response from him.”

“All right,” Bill says. “Make sure you go and enjoy the party before leaving, okay?” He pats his shoulder and gives him a short hug, heading back to the lift only to find M waiting for him.

“Going up, Tanner?” he asks.

He nods and walks in.

There’s a few seconds of silence before Bill clears his throat. “Any plans for the holidays, sir?”

M shrugs. “Nothing special, after this. Trevelyan and Vasquez’s drinking contest was the highlight of the holiday season.”

“Same goes for everyone else,” he agrees. “My money is on Vasquez for next year. As long as we keep Q and his cat hair infested jumper away, she’ll win for sure.”

M shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips, and Bill relaxes a little. “Speaking of the party, you weren’t able to finally introduce us to your mysterious new friend?”

“No, she’s out skiing in the Alps – her favorite holiday pastime.”

“You didn’t go with her?” M asks, looking at him.

“Why would I?” Bill replies, looking back.

The lift dings open. “It’s late,” M says. “Let my car take you home.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, but M’s already walking away and Bill has no choice to follow. He slides in and waits for M to give the driver instructions before finally blurting out his question. “How did you find out?”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he says. “Moneypenny told me.”

“Of course she did,” Bill mumbles under his breath.

M chuckles, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window. “She told me why you didn’t bring the information to me and I understand,” he says. “But you should understand that it’s not exactly her fault that she did this. In the same way that Bond’s M shall always be Mansfield, her M is Mallory, and so that is where her loyalties lie.”

“You make it sound like it’s a battle,” Bill says, unable to stop himself.

“It’s not,” M says. “But if it were, it would be an interesting one, to say the least. About half the 00s have seen different Ms and so they’re able to shift their allegiances when a new one comes, while the other half only knew her as their leader and can view me as a usurper. Most of the branches are evenly split – some prefer me, others prefer her, and still others are too new in hiring to be counted. Q is a unique case, as he hadn’t spent long under her rule to appreciate her or my rule to appreciate me. Moneypenny, as we’ve established, allies with me and you, Tanner…”

He pauses and gives him a soft look. “Well, we both know where your loyalties lie.”

“If I may, sir,” Bill leans forward and takes a deep breath. “Just because someone liked the old M, it doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate you. It’s not a zero-sum game.”

“Isn’t it?” he says. He looks out the window. “I believe we’re outside your stop.”

Bill unbuckles himself and steps out of the car, turning back to face M. “Just because I care about her, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you too.”

M looks at him for a long moment. “Tanner – ”

“Bill,” he says. “We’re not at work.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment, Bill thinks he might very soon be out of a job, but M simply leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “There was mistletoe in the lift,” he says quietly.

Bill blinks, then blinks again. “Oh,” he says.

M’s mouth quirks. “Merry Christmas, Bill.”

“Merry Christmas,” he manages to reply, watching M close the door and drive away. He stands there for a few long moments until it finally occurs to him he should probably head inside.

* * *

Bill wakes to his phone ringing right beside his ear. “Goddammit,” he grumbles and fumbles with it for a few moments before managing to pick it up. “Q, I literally just saw you at Eve’s party a couple of hours ago. It’s New Year’s Day and I wanted to sleep in.”

“It’s well past noon,” Q replies steadily.

He checks the clock on his phone and, sure enough, he’s slept through most of the day. Letting out a quiet yawn, he sits up and stretches. “All right, fair enough. What is it?”

“Bond – he replied to my text.”

“Okay, good for him. Why are you telling me?”

“Well,” Q lets out a sigh. “You’ve been married, so you know how to talk to… people...”

“Judging by your scintillating conversation skills, it seems you do need my help,” Bill says. “Especially if it’s someone you fancy.”

“I don’t _fancy_ him,” Q huffs, but he can tell it’s halfhearted at best. “Eve helped me out in the beginning but he hasn’t texted back now and I’m worried he’s regretting letting me contact him.”

Bill wonders how he got to this point in his life where he has to help a friend write out a text to someone they’re not so subtly pining after. “I’m sure he doesn’t regret it,” he says reassuringly. “Don’t ask anyone what you should say to him – if he wanted to talk to someone else, he would’ve sent them a postcard. Talk to him however you want to talk to him, okay?”

“That’s very good advice,” Q says after a moment. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, Q. See you at work.” He hangs up and tosses his phone aside.

He thinks about Bond, far off in New York, sitting down somewhere and typing out a text to Q. He wonders if they’ll be able to finally realize how they feel about each other. It’s unlikely, but he’s hopeful for this year.

* * *

“So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?” Madeleine asks after she’s handed her menu to the waiter.

“Bond and Q have started texting each other,” he says.

“Really?” she says. “That’s good for him. It must’ve been hard, suddenly realizing that almost all of your work had been orchestrated by a mad man obsessed with you, making you think that nothing you’ve done has mattered. It’s good that he’s reaching out to someone from his old life.” She pauses a slight moment and smiles. “Also, this might help them finally get together.”

“Exactly what I’m saying.” He takes a sip of his water. “Also, during the Christmas party, there was mistletoe in the lift and M kissed me.”

Madeleine’s eyes widen. “He _kissed_ you?”

“Not on the lips,” Bill says quickly. “Just… right next to them.” He remembers standing out there in the cold, corner of his mouth almost tingling as he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing.

“What happened next?” she asks.

He shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it at all, haven’t had much of a chance since he’s been in and out of the country, but… but he smiles more, when we’re together, and we have more small talk than usual. It’s… it’s nothing different, really.” He catches her smirk and rolls his eyes. “I’ve talked enough – tell me about your trip now.”

She leans back and starts talking, and Bill has a feeling things are starting to go right.

* * *

He goes down to Q Branch to hand over some files to Q and finds him sitting at his desk, earpiece in and talking while he types on the computer.

“Is he talking to Bond?” he asks R.

She nods and takes the files out of his hands. “He does this every day, in between projects and tea breaks. Sometimes he’ll get this big goofy smile on his face or start laughing and won’t bother explaining why.”

Bill smiles. “He’s smitten, isn’t he?”

“You can say that again,” she hums. “Do you want Bond’s number? I got it from his phone when he wasn’t looking and gave it to Eve – I think she’s going to call him soon.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I think I’ll wait until Bond comes back to talk to him.” He watches Q spill some tea over his sweater and shakes his head. “Make sure he signs these forms, all right?”

“No problem, boss,” she says and walks away as he catches the lift.

It stops before it hits the top floor and M walks in, eyes glued to a few papers in his hands. Bill looks around, as casually as he can, noticing that none of the decorations from Christmas had been taken off yet. Not even the mistletoe.

M seems to have noticed too and they look at each other for a brief moment before the doors open and Eve calls out for both of them. He smiles, just barely, and walks out, and Bill follows closely behind.

* * *

“Do you think something’s wrong with Q?” Eve asks him. She invited him out for drinks a day earlier than usual, since she and M had plans to travel to France in order to assist their intelligence network with their rebuilding efforts. He’d thought they were going to talk about that, but clearly something else is on her mind.

Bill sips at his drink and shrugs. “You mean _besides_ his constant communication with Bond?”

“That’s just the thing,” she says. “I was down in Q Branch the other day and he wasn’t on his phone, wasn’t talking on his earpiece, just grumbling under his breath and typing angrily. R and I did some asking around – ”

“You mean digging your nose into his business,” Bill says casually.

Eve ignores him. “We found out Trevelyan asked him when Bond’s coming back so he could throw him a party, but Q never got back to him.”

“So Bond told Q he’s not coming back or something, and Q’s upset about it?” he asks.

“That’s the running theory,” Eve says. She drains her glass with a sigh. “Things were really going well for a bit, then Bond had to ruin things for himself. Like he often does.”

Q had seemed happier, more efficient in his work and more eager to go out with his friends while Bond had been in constant communication. And there had been a significant decrease in quality in the reports Q had been sending over in the last few days, so, maybe, just this once, Bill could probably justify what he’s about to do.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he sighs, “but we’re going to have to snoop around in Q’s business.”

* * *

The plan is simple – he distracts Q with some menial conversation and complicated work, while Eve and R hack into Q’s phone and find out what he and Bond sent to each other.

“Hey, Q, do you have a moment?” He walks up to his desk and holds up a floppy disk.

“God, where the hell did that come from?” Q asks.

“I have some old family photos in here, but nothing that can read it,” he says. (In actuality, the disk is completely empty – he’d bought it at a pawn shop just this morning.) “Mind helping me out?”

Q looks at his computer and back to Bill, before sighing and getting up. “I think I have something down in the archive room.” He gestures him along and Bill follows.

“So, read any good books lately?” he asks, as casually as possible.

Q shrugs. He pulls up the inventory on the archive’s computer and scrolls through. “Not exactly. R keeps trying to get me to read Gone Girl but I haven’t found the time.”

“Huh,” Bill says. “What’s it about?”

“Ask her, she’ll be very eager to tell you. Ah, here it is,” he gets up and heads to one of the cabinets as Bill’s phone buzzes.

 _[From: Eve]_  
_got it_  
_meet me in your office_

He pockets it just as Q returns with a surprisingly complex piece of machinery. “Just put it back here when you’re done and one of the minions will get to it.”

“I thought HR said you couldn’t call them that anymore,” Bill says.

“What HR doesn’t know won’t hurt them,” he replies, smiling a little. He hesitates a moment, biting his lip. “Did you know Blofeld is dead?”

Bill raises a brow. “Really? When?”

“Last night. It was an infection from the eye wound,” Q says. He lets out a long sigh. “So that’s it, that chapter of our life is over. SPECTRE is finished.”

“It’s not completely over,” Bill says. “There’s still some leftover damage from Nine Eyes, some ex-SPECTRE agents trying to revive the organization – there’s still work to be done.” He pats his shoulder and lugs the equipment to the lift.

“What took you so long?” Eve asks, when he finally arrives into his office. “And what the hell is that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. He puts it on his desk and plops into his chair. “Right, what did you find?”

“Apparently, Bond told Q he didn’t know when he’s coming back a couple of days ago, and Q hasn’t responded to any of his messages since,” she tells him. “I tried texting Bond but he hasn’t replied.”

Bill thinks for a moment, scratching his chin. “Where is Bond now?”

Eve pulls out her phone. “According to R, his phone is heading to Tokyo.”

“Great,” he gets up and heads out of the room. “Henri, can you call the airport and get me the earliest flight to Japan? And tell M I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

She nods and gets on the phone as Eve follows him to the lift. “You’re going to Japan _now_?” she asks incredulously.

“Better now than never, or whatever,” he says. “Have a fun trip to Paris.” He smiles and gives her a little wave until the doors close.

* * *

He books a random hotel in downtown Tokyo and spends the next day coordinating with R via phone, trying to track Bond’s exact whereabouts.

 _[From: R]_  
_There's a restaurant nearby that looks like Bond would go there_

_[To: R]_  
_i see it_  
_youre absolutely right_  
_thanks_

He goes inside and speaks with the staff, eventually getting them to agree to seat Bond near him as to easily spot him when he arrives. He already has a cover plan in place and is completely prepared to deal with Bond and get him to come back when the unexpected happens.

M comes by and seats himself at his table.

It takes all of Bill's willpower not to gape. "Sir, what are you doing here?"

"What, I can't have a nice meal with a good friend?" he asks, eyes filled with laughter. He's dressed down, less formal than his usual wear, and it starts to feel like less a foreign country and more a foreign planet in Bill's eyes.

"I meant that you and Moneypenny were supposed to be in Paris," he says carefully.

M calls the waiter over and orders wine for both of them. "She's still there, helping them out. We had to come to Japan next week but I heard you were here so I thought I would come early and surprise you."

Bill lets out a small chuckle. "That's very nice of you, sir."

"We're not at work," he says. "Call me Gareth." And suddenly the entire atmosphere changes, and Bill is more thankful to have the wine than before.

They make idle small talk, less about current work and more about old jobs, missions, some funny stories they’d experienced. It’s not at all what Bill expected, but he enjoys himself all the same. He only gets dragged back into reality when he catches Bond’s eye a few tables away.

“I’ll be right back,” M – _Gareth_ , really – says a few moments later, when his phone begins to buzz. He gets up and heads out of the restaurant, and Bill uses this moment to gesture Bond over.

“Tanner, lovely to see you here,” Bond greets cheerfully. “And if you’re wondering, no, I haven’t finished that mission report yet.”

Bill gives him a look and wonders why he missed him. “What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“Vacationing,” Bond replies. “What are you two doing here?”

“Cleaning shit up after that clusterfuck with Nine Eyes and C,” Bill lies smoothly. He picks up his glass and drains it. “It’s been exhausting.”

Bond nods sympathetically. “I’m sure it has.”

Bill nods, pausing just a moment. “There’s something we found out recently that I think you should know. Blofeld – ”

“Oberhauser,” Bond automatically corrects, and it’s painfully obvious he’s been on his mind for far too long.

Bill shrugs casually. “Whatever his name was, he’s dead.”

Bond blinks. “That fast?”

“He had some infection from that large cut on his eye – rather anticlimactic. I thought you should know.” He licks his lips and calls over the waiter to refill his glass. “And in case it was on your mind – SPECTRE wasn’t in charge of  _all_  your missions. There were plenty you did yourself.”

“Have you been talking to the psychologist?” Bond asks.

Bill rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile and tell him about Madeleine. “Maybe I’m just very nice and understanding and I thought you needed to hear that.”

“Right, well, now that it’s off your conscience…” Bond gets up and starts to turn away.

 _This is it._ “Sunday,” he says.

Bond turns around and raises a brow. “What’s on Sunday?”

“Q’s birthday.”

“Really?” Bond asks, trying not to sound too interested, but it’s as plain as day on his face.

Bill allows himself a satisfied smirk. “Try to finish that mission report by then, will you? You don’t want to miss the party.”

Bond rolls his eyes and walks back to his table, and Bill feels accomplished and satisfied.

Gareth returns, sliding into the seat Bond only just vacated. “Just got myself in an afternoon meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh joy,” Bill replies sarcastically. He sips at his wine. “Well, at least we can enjoy the night together.”

“Indeed we can,” he hums.

They drink more wine and share a dessert, and when they’re in the cab and Gareth finally kisses him, Bill can taste the raspberries and chocolate mousse and he leans in for more.

* * *

He wakes up in a different hotel room, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as he looks around. The sheets beside him are cold, barely an indent in the pillow, and the suitcase and assorted clothes he’d seen last night are all stowed away, as though they’d never been there in the first place. It is 10 am when he checks his phone later, dressed and ready to return to his own hotel, and he wonders for how long he was sleeping alone.

His flight isn’t until midafternoon and he spends his free time trying out some restaurants and seeing some of the sights, taking a few pictures and buying a few gifts.

He’s in line for a cup of coffee at the airport when he gets a call and he picks up immediately.

“Tanner,” he says, “when you get back to London, can you fax me some files? I’ll email you the details.”

Bill takes a deep breath. “Of course, sir,” he says, and hangs up.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting.

* * *

He’s back to work by Monday and drops a souvenir on Henri’s desk.

“Aww, N, you shouldn’t have,” she hums, picking up the keychain. She squeezes the part shaped like a pea pod and laughs when a small pea sticks out. “It’s adorable.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Bill smiles.

She looks up at him and, instead of smiling, gives him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

At first, Bill wants to say that yes, he is okay, there’s nothing to be concerned about, but he’s unable to muster enough positivity to prove he’s fine. He lets out a sigh. “It’s just some jetlag,” he says. “I’ll be better by tomorrow.”

She looks a little unconvinced but lets the matter drop, and he goes into his office. He feels much better by lunch and heads down to Q Branch, hovering by R’s desk as she finishes typing up a report.

“Hey, how did Tokyo go?” she asks.

He hands her the keychain he got her (a sushi roll) and smiles. “He’s going to be back by Sunday.”

“Sunday?” she raises a brow. “How did you convince him to come back on Valentine’s Day?”

“I told him it was Q’s birthday.”

She looks at him for a moment and bursts into laughter. “God, you’re _diabolical_.”

“I didn’t get this job by doing nothing,” he smirks.

“What are you two laughing about?” Q walks over, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“I got you and R matching novelty keychains,” Bill says. He tosses it to Q and he fumbles with it for a good minute before he’s able to look at it.

“Cute,” he hums. “I don’t see how it’s funny, though…”

“Don’t worry about that,” R says. She starts asking him something work-related and Bill takes that as his cue to leave.

* * *

Eve comes into his office the next day while he’s getting ready for lunch. “R told me – how did Bond not notice what day Sunday is?”

“I just assumed he didn’t know when Q’s birthday was and that he hadn’t looked at a calendar in ages,” Bill admits.

“What a stroke of luck,” she says. She looks at him for a moment and he has a sneaking suspicion what she’s going to say next. “You know, Henri and R both said you looked a little off yesterday and I’m inclined to agree with them.”

“It’s just jetlag,” he insists.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “How was Paris?”

“Honestly, all I had to do was just micromanage a few of the officers in charge until they managed to get the job done,” she shrugs. “Then I went sightseeing – I think M actually went ahead to Tokyo to get that trip out of the way, but he says he couldn’t get in touch with you. Probably wanted you to enjoy your mini vacation, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess.”

“Anyway, I go to my office this morning and find out that Rogers got a job in California so now I need to hire a psychologist.”

“A psychologist?” Bill says. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says, raising a brow. “What about it?”

“Don’t hire anyone yet,” he says. “I’ll explain when I come back from my lunch date.” He puts on his coat and walks out of his office to see M, back in his formal suit and tie, talking casually with Henri. He takes a deep breath and goes forward.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Henri,” he gives her a friendly wave and nods at M. “Afternoon, sir.” He doesn’t listen if he responded or not, walking straight for the lift and not looking back.

* * *

“You want me to get a job with MI6?” Madeleine gives him an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

“Hear me out,” Bill says. “You’re here in London, you’re looking for a job, and here, no one is going to try and kill you.”

“Are we certain about that?” she asks.

“You won’t be dealing with 00s,” he assures her. “Just regular people, like me.”

She looks thoughtful for a couple of moments, letting out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll send them my resume – on the condition that you tell me why you looked so strange when you walked in here.”

Bill pauses for a brief moment, wondering whether or not he should say anything. “As long as we change the subject once I’m done.”

“Okay,” she says. And he tells her – about the dinner and the morning after and everything in between. About the raspberries and red wine and empty sheets in the cold light of morning.

He stops after the text, because there’s nothing really to tell after that, and true to her word, Madeleine changes the subject and starts asking about the exact details of her potential job and he tells her.

He feels better after that.

* * *

 

 _[To: M]_  
_can we talk about [Message unsent]_  
_what happened after [Message unsent]_  
_do you regret it that much [Message unsent]_  
_why the fuck did you [Message unsent]_  
_what about the mistletoe? [Message unsent]_

* * *

On Saturday, he gets a text from R telling him Bond is officially back in London and a few minutes later, Eve invites them over.

“Next time, instead of your flat, we should meet at a karaoke bar,” R says.

Q lets out a groan. “God, if I have to listen to you singing along to another song, I swear to god…”

“You’re just upset you can’t speak Korean and sing along to K-Pop,” she huffs in response. She clears her throat and starts to sing. “Igoseun Heartbreak hotel…”

“That sounds pretty self-explanatory, Q,” Bill hums. “I don’t know how you can’t understand that.”

Eve laughs. “All right, all right, enough singing for a moment.” She clears her throat and holds up her bottle. “Let’s do a toast.

“Didn’t we already do a toast on New Year’s?” Q asks.

“Yes, but we’re doing another one.” She clears her throat again and smiles. “To friendship.”

“What an original toast,” Bill jokes, but he raises his bottle anyway and drains it in a single gulp.

They start heading home after that, and he manages to hail down a cab. He catches Q out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Q?”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning around.

“Have a happy Valentine’s Day,” he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is not the fic I intended to write, honestly - it was supposed to be from Q's POV and just some short scenes but then it just spun wildly out of control with a different main character and its own plot. Hopefully, after this, I'll have a sequel before the year is out so we know whether or not Bond and Q actually confess their feelings and hook up.
> 
> If you enjoy watching _The Clone Wars_ or want to pester me into writing the sequel to this fic, hit me up on my [tumblr](http://www.poeorgana.tumblr.com/)


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